


take me to your heart

by angrylizardjacket (ephemeralstar)



Series: this must be just like living in paradise [5]
Category: The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, F/M, Found Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/angrylizardjacket
Summary: Lola’s never had a proper Christmas, and after this one, she still hasn’t, but Tommy’s a surprisingly good gift giver.
Relationships: Nikki Sixx/Original Female Character(s), Tommy Lee & Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee (Mötley Crüe)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: this must be just like living in paradise [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1357720
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	take me to your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the tour with Roxie, but well after she’s departed. Written on my phone, v Christmas. Warning: Lola n Nikki give each other dirty gifts but the fic is sfw. Tommy-centric.
> 
> Also i dont know if Tommy's family is at all greek orthodox, its just for flavour, suspend ya disbelief.

“Sharise wants to do something for Christmas,” Vince sighs, his heels resting on the table of the tour bus. Lola, at least, looks up from her magazine with a frown, though she seems to be the only one paying attention.

“She’s in LA.”

“We’ll be in Phoenix by then, its not that long of a flight,” Vince answers quickly, and Lola goes back to her magazine. “I don’t know what to get her.”

“A six-pack and edible panties,” comes Nikki’s answer, half distracted where he was trying to write lyrics. Vince’s expression, however, wrinkles.

“Have you ever bought a present for a lady who wasn’t Lola?” He snaps, crossing his arms, and though he can’t see Lola’s amused expression, he hears her snort of laughter.

“Yes,” Nikki responds flatly, finally looking up, “but incase you haven’t noticed,” he gestured around to the bus, which was filled only with the band, as well as Doc and Lola, “none of them are still here.”

“That’s correlation, man, not causation -”

“You know what? Fuck your five dollar words, man, I was trying to help.” Nikki snapped, picking up his notebook in a huff and heading to the back of the bus. Silence fills the air, Vince sulking a little, Tommy just looking between Lola and Vince. Mick, who was trying to nap, sighs deeply and shifts in his uncomfortable seat.

“Is that all you’ve ever gotten for Christmas?” Tommy asks and Lola’s response is surprisingly honest.

“Zero expectationsl, zero disappointments; drink, eat, fuck, like any other day.” She does give pause there, the magazine rustling as her grip tightens just a little, and when she lowers it, there’s amusement in her eyes. “Also, grape is the best flavour.”

“What?”

“For edible panties.”

“You guys are absolutely no help.” Vince declares. Mick just laughs at that.

Lola’s never been too bothered by not having a proper Christmas, she and Nikki live a pretty secular life when they weren’t dabbling in Satanism, and the others were usually too busy doing their own things around the holidays to notice the pair’s lack of any sort of traditions. Usually they’ll buy each other booze, or some sort of joke present, but its never been a particularly sentimental time for Lola, not that anyone had really noticed her apathy enough to care.

Until now.

The holidays have always been a sentimental time for Tommy, and though he’d strayed from his Greek Orthodox roots, he still took it as a chance to show his family how much they meant to him, and now he was feeling like a fool for leaving his _band-family_ out for so long.

What the hell could he get them that they didn’t already have?

Nikki was easy, as it turned out. One quick phonecall home, his father spends about twenty minutes rifling through the junk Tommy had left from hia teenage years, and a poster, heavily creased and golden with age, is waiting at their next hotel, express shipped. Nikki didn’t want or need any fancy packaging, so Tommy bought a big, yellow envelope and put the poster inside, along with a lighter he’d bought at a gas station. It looked cheap, a bit rough around the edges, but he was pretty sure Nikki would appreciate it all the same.

Mick was a little more difficult, seeing as he was almost guaranteed to throw out any joke gifts, or amything he didn’t want. It feels like a cop-out, to just give him booze - expensive booze, mind you - instead of something sentimental. As luck would have it, Tommy finds himself scoring blow in an alley beside a pawn shop, and once the deal’s done, he spots an iridescent alien-head keychain. He tapes the charm to the bottle of booze, amd slaps a bow on it, and is satisfied.

He and Vince have been exchanging Christmas presents since high school, as long as they were in the same town. Mostly they’re joke presents. Tommy’s had this year’s picked out for months; a Malibu Barbie he’d repainted himself with Vince’s stage make-up. Vince he didn’t need to worry about.

Lola was a different story. She lived her life in the shadow of the band’s, her existence, her belongings, were a patchwork of their leftovers; her creature comforts were consumables, and while she always took whatever she could wherever she was, it was because she could, not because she _wanted_ things. What can you get for the girl who seems to want nothing, and still gets everything?

“Lola doesn’t want _things_ , she wants _experiences_ , _opportunities_ ,” Vince is the one who Tommy finally goes to for advice, and was the only one who Tommy knew would be actually helpful. They’re in Vince’s dressing room now, Tommy polishing off a bottle of Jack while Vince touches up his own eyeliner. Tommy’s frowning, still at a loss, and he lowers the bottle. Their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, and Vince visibly hesitates before speaking again.

“Have you ever heard her play piano?”

Christmas rolls around and they’re stuck in a hotel in Arizona. They’re finishing the tour in LA just days before New Years Eve; the end is so close they can all almost taste it.

Sharise invites them all to dinner, well, she invites Lola when she learns that Lola’s never had a proper Christmas dinner and ’ _the rest of them can come too if they want_ ’. Tommy feels like Santa, laden with gifts, as he gets to the private room they had booked at the nicest resturant in town that was still open. He’d spent the morning organising Lola’s gift, and was glad to have a break to eat before he gave it to her, or more accurately, took her to it.

“We were meant to bring presents?” Lola looks immediately panicked when he steps inside with a rather full backpack. She starts patting down her pockets as if hoping to magically find a pile of gifts there. “I didn’t- I mean like I didn’t bring them- its just drinks- _nice drinks_ -” she clarified, but Tommy grins brightly.

“It’s chill, Lols, I just saw this stuff around and thought it would be nice, its not a big deal,” with that he laughed a little self consciously, “and dude, I’m sorry but I don’t even have a thing to give you.”

Lola can’t help but be a little put out by that, still strangely childish in ways that continue to baffle Tommy, but he hopes she’ll appreciate his gift, even if he can’t give it to her with the others.

They do exhange gifts; Tommy gives Sharise champagne, and she seems more amused by his gift to Vince than Vince is. Vince, for his part, gives Tommy an ornate fountain pen, which has Tommy confused at first, while Nikki roars with laughter, pulling out an incredibly cheap ballpoint with a bow on it.

“You guys are fucking assholes,” Tommy scowls once he realises, though by now even Lola’s snickering. The scar from where Roxie had stabbed him several months ago begins to ache, just a little.

Mick, like Lola, doesn’t have any gifts either, but he passes her a lighter and gruffly tells her he found it on the bus, that it was her’s and that this isn’t a gift. He does, however, smile at the keychain Tommy gives him, and in a few days, Tommy will see it looped around the handle of one of his guitar cases.

To no ones surprise, Nikki puts a six-pack and a pair of cheap, grape flavoured, edible panties on the table, and slides it gracelessly across the table to Lola wearing a shiteating grin. Mirroring his smile, Lola reaches into the inner pocket of her jacket, and flicks him a little cardboard package. Its unmarked, nondescript, and absolutely no-one at that table trusted Lola to have put something appropriate in that box. Everyone waits with a sort of morbid curiosity as Nikki shakes the box, giving pause before opening it.

“It vibrates.” Is all Lola says as he holds up the bright purple cockring, smile on his face giving away how genuinely amused he was with it.

“Presents are cancelled,” Sharise declared with faux exasperation, but Tommy’s already protesting, holding out his own gift to Nikki.

Sharise hands Lola a small present as Nikki unwraps his. For Lola, its new black lipstick and eyeliner, and for Nikki, its an old poster of his band, _London_ , and a cheap lighter. Nikki’s expression is unreadable, blinking slowly at the poster, the room’s gone quiet enough that everyone can hear it crinkle in his hands as he looks up at Tommy’s smile.

“It’s the one I used to have on my wall, man; my folks kept all my old posters, I thought you might wanna burn the shit out of this one.” He gestures to the lighter, nervousness bubbling in his stomach, unsure of how Nikki feels about it, his face still a little shocked.

Little by little, Nikki’s lips turn to a smile, a bright, beaming, genuine grin. He practically launches himself across Mick to wrap Tommy in a hug, fierce and bright. Mick grumbles, but Nikki just crows about how weirdly cool it was.

“Yeah, i figured arson and petty revenge are like, two of your favourite things,” Tommy babbles, hugging Nikki back, quietly pleased with himself. Its a strangely endearing moment, and when Tommy looks over at her, he catches Lola’s adoring smile as she watches them, but its gone quickly.

Dinner is fun, between the bottles of rum they finish off between them and the lines of coke they have for dessert, which Sharise mostly abstains from, they don’t really get out of line. Except for when Nikki sets the poster on fire with the candle in the middle of the table, and he ends up getting kicked out.

Whatever, he was mostly done anyways.

After dinner they all go their separate ways, but Tommy catches Lola before she gets too far. She’s tipsy, grinning in the cold night air, happy to let Tommy lead her where he may. Lacing her finger with his, her free hand swings the six-pack Nikki had gotten her, while she hums a tune Tommy recognises but can’t place.

They come to a stop outside of the Hall where the band were due to perform the following night, their equipment bus parked and quiet beside the building.

“Nothing’s in there yet; we’re bumping in tomorrow morning,” Lola says, her hamd still in his. Tommy just grins, pulling a set of keys from his pocket, jangling them enticingly.

“So we’ve got the whole night.”

Inside, in the middle of the stage, lit by a single warm, golden spotlight, sits a grand piano. The whole building is empty, save for the two of them, and Lola’s grip on his hand tightens. All words leave her, eyes going wide and surprised.

Walking forward, she heads towards the piano, but she doesn’t let go of his hand, gently tugging him along with her. His name leaves her lips, a disbelieving, reverential utterance. The lid is already lifted and she carresses the keys with her free hand.

“You didn’t have to-” she turns to him, expression awed, but he gives her hand a squeeze.

“Merry Christmas, Lols.”

Stepping up to him, her hand is gentle on his cheek, far more gentle, more tender than he was used to her being. Leaning in, they kiss softly, in sync, fitting together as they always had, as they were always meant to. Pulling away, Tommy’s grin is fond as he kisses the tip of her nose. Untangling their fingers, he gestures wordlessly to the piano.

Lola sits, hesitates, listening to Tommy’s retreating footsteps.

“Where are you going?” She asks quietly, fingers dancing across the keys as she plays a quick scale.

“Vince told me-”

“That snitch.” Lola laughs softly, before adding, “‘told you I don’t like an audience, didn’t he?” Tommy agrees, still paused halfway to the door. Lola is quiet for a moment, and she stops in her movements, but then she starts up again, and Tommy’s heart is in his throat as he hears thw opwning bars of the song he’d been working on for almost a month amd a half now. The song’s not yet finished, but he’d know the opening to _Home Sweet Home_ anywhere.

“Can you stay?” Lola’s voice is barely audible above the music. “If you want to, I’d like you to stay.” And she doesn’t know the lyrics, so she keeps playing what she’s heard him play a hundred times over.

“I didn’t know you knew this that well,” Tommy finds himself smiling, walking back to the piano, to sit down beside Lola where she’s shifted over to make room for him. She’s smiling too, genuine, actually a little bashful, and she’s still playing when she admits her thoughts.

“It’s shaping up to be one of my favourites.”


End file.
